


off the map

by veniyuri



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Desk Sex, Here we go, Humor, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rivalry, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veniyuri/pseuds/veniyuri
Summary: "With all due respect, sir, this could have all been avoided if Mr. Kim could keep it in his pants."
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65
Collections: Sexual Tensions August 2020 Round





	off the map

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written smut and I was running out of words riP.... sorry i'm exposition's bitch aaaaaa
> 
> for the purpose of this fic we are going to Ignore physics tyvm!!!

“Kim Jongin.”

Jongin’s lip twitches, but he keeps his head down. 

“Kim Minseok.”

Minseok looks over at Jongin, sneers, then spits at his shoes.

—he doesn’t really, but since Jongin can’t, and more importantly won’t, look at his coworker, he has to fill in the blanks himself.

“Can you two explain to me why I’m looking at a broken vending machine?” Their boss’s voice crackles over line, and Baekhyun holds up the phone with his displeased face displayed on the screen. He directs their boss towards Jongin, Minseok, and then assumingly the vending machine for however long Baekhyun deems dramatically appropriate. Jongin hasn’t had the courage to lift his head since his boss stared him down with pixelated disappointment. 

There’s also the fact that ever since he’s been put on call duty, Baekhyun has made it a game to make funny faces behind the phone and see who cracks first during correspondence with their absent superior. Jongin can’t afford to lose it now when he’s barely holding on as it is.

“With all due respect, sir,” Minseok speaks up, and from his tone alone Jongin knows he’s not about to say anything useful. Baekhyun points their boss at him while Jongin whips his gaze to his right.

 _Don’t fuck this up, Kim Minseok_ , he wills through his face alone. If only eyes could speak. Minseok doesn’t even glance at him.

“This could all have been avoided if Mr. Kim could keep it in his pants.”

Jongin sees red. Baekhyun nearly keels over with laughter.

There’s much to be said about the dreariness of a salaryman’s life. What is universally unsaid, however, is how the office is a war that, in Jongin’s opinion, he’s winning. Or he has been, for as long as he can remember up until a finite point in time that marks the exact moment Kim Minseok entered his life. Specifically, the cubicle next to him.

Truthfully the title of _good_ employee means nothing, but _favored_ employee unlocks an exclusive world of its own. The two are often, though not always, complementary, but only for those who know how to make it so. Jongin works hard and he’s charming; that’s why his boss likes him on top of the results he produces. His fellow coworkers too find little fault with him despite the open secret of favoritism, and like this his office life has been peaceful.

Then Kim Minseok waltzed in and said, “Oh, isn’t this wrong though?” looking over Jongin’s shoulder.

It can’t be that Jongin is a _bad_ worker; he wouldn’t have gotten this far if he were. Yet somehow at every micro mistake he makes, Kim Minseok is there to document and broadcast it to the whole company. At first he’s able to be the bigger person and pass it off as being sensitive, because it takes a sensitive eye to obtain the results he does. However, that doesn’t explain the office gossip that reaches his ears. Whispers about how he’s losing his touch, and that Minseok is taking his place.

If that’s how it is, then it’s only a matter of proving himself. He’s done it before when he entered the company and he hasn’t lost the ability to do it again. So even though it’s mostly a one-sided competition in his head, Jongin counts his victories when he outdoes Kim Minseok, pleased with the tally he comes up with.

That changes when it seems like his coworker starts to play too. He’d pass it off as being a good employee, driven and ambitious, if not for the quirk of Minseok’s lips when he catches Jongin staring and the way he starts patronizing him even when they hardly do anything.

There’s no need to slide a hand along his shoulder when peering at Jongin’s screen, or patting his waist to alert him there’s someone behind him. It doesn’t help that every time he looks sharply at Minseok, the other smiles innocently like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

 _You know_ , Jongin wants to say. It’s impossible that Minseok isn’t aware how he’s boiling inside, threatening to overflow. With what, he doesn’t like to linger on. Sometimes it’s rage, but other times—

Well, there’s a reason he doesn’t like thinking about it.

“You should loosen up,” Minseok tells him during an accidentally mutual coffee break. Jongin humors him by raising a brow.

“What good will that do me? Relaxing leads to more mistakes.” If you can’t be diligent you can’t be certain, and small infractions count against you in the largest ways. He’s had to relearn that recently.

“Mistakes aren’t terrible,” Minseok replies, which is rich coming from the person who’s been dead set on drawing out Jongin’s since day one. “It’s unnatural if you don’t make any.”

Jongin snorts. “Unnatural is the least of my concerns.” He can worry about character any time, but you can only make a mistake once before it can’t be forgiven. Even better, simply never make them at all.

Minseok sighs like it pains him to explain further, and when he gets up Jongin expects him to walk away and leave him to his peace before returning to his desk. He doesn’t anticipate how Minseok’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and nearly spills his coffee.

“What the hell—“ Jongin grits his teeth and hisses in pain. Minseok doesn’t speak, but his thumbs work at a tightness Jongin didn’t even know he had until Jongin finally sighs.

“See?” 

The word tickles his ear, and Jongin jolts, whirling around.

“You need to relax more,” Minseok smiles, cat-eyed and definitely up to something.

The touching continues, with the added caveat that Jongin is hyper aware of it against his will. Far from when he used to analyze Kim Minseok’s every move, to spot sabotage if it was there, Jongin convinces himself now he’ll be happier with a clear mind and no distractions. No Minseok.

It’s perfect when he imagines it the night before. In practice, Jongin has to wonder if his coworker has always been so… intertwined in his affairs. If it’s not Minseok himself rubbing elbows for no reason or hovering by with a question or comment, then it’s someone else asking Jongin where Minseok is.

“Should I know?” Jongin asks the fifth person to talk to him about it all week. Kyungsoo considers him thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to, but you spend a lot of time together. It’s strange to see you alone recently.”

In the moment Jongin is stunned and gives some noncommittal answer, but it takes him until he’s sitting at his desk again for the reality to sink in. The gossip. The rumors. The invisible network of know-how that floats through the office has somehow steered in the direction of associating Kim Jongin and Kim Minseok together, and he hadn’t noticed a damn thing. What kind of game is Minseok playing?

He’ll later come to regret it, but when he spots Minseok by the vending machine fighting to count out some change, he decides he won’t get anywhere without facing his problems directly. How that ends up with Minseok’s back against the machine and Jongin’s fist planted above his head with agitation coming off him in waves, well, no one can really say.

(“Oh, Jongin—“

“Are we familiar enough for you to call me like that?”

“...Mr. Kim then. Do you want a drink too?”

“I want to know what your problem with me is.”

“Me? Aren’t you the one with the problem?”)

This could have all been avoided if Minseok acted according to the plan in Jongin’s head, in which there is no instance of the man winding his tie around his hand and jerking Jongin close.

And there certainly isn’t a low whisper smiled against his cheek: “If you want to fuck, all I’m waiting for is your request.”

That’s when his fist comes out, because the blood is pounding in his ears and he hopes it stays there and doesn’t dare travel south. Which, it doesn’t, but for all the wrong reasons.

Something creaks, and both of their eyes widen before they back away and watch the vending machine, which admittedly isn’t new but isn’t terribly old either, topple over.

This shit isn’t supposed to happen outside of movies. Not even Minseok’s hearty laughter can save Jongin’s mood. Even worse when others run over to see the commotion, and Baekhyun dials their boss with a loud announcement of, “You guys are _so_ screwed!”

“That could have gone worse,” Minseok says when it’s just him, Jongin, and Jongin’s shame in the room. Part of their punishment had been to clean up the mess of a broken vending machine, and the custodian lended a sorely needed hand when they got behind sweeping up bits of glass.

Their punishment could have been worse, objectively. But it’s a _rich_ statement from someone who dragged Jongin through the mud in front of their superior.

“For who? You?” he retorts, loosening his tie and feeling the urge to pass out on the floor right then and there. This isn’t even overtime; it’s unjust labor practices.

“Both of us, but do you feel like you got it worse?”

When it’s put like that Jongin bristles, because he’s not being self deprecating. “I don’t know, Mr. Kim. Apparently I couldn’t keep it in my pants.”

Minseok bursts into laughter, and Jongin wonders if he enjoys the idea of being strangled. By Jongin.

“Did you take that to heart? I was joking! I think it lightened the mood and got our punishment reduced.”

“I was too busy being mortified to notice.” Maybe it’s something in his expression that tips the other off, but Minseok has the grace to turn sheepish.

“Oh… really?”

Jongin doesn’t dignify it with a response. He sighs and checks his phone, the time exhausting him even more. After this, he’s very much considering passing out without preamble, but reasonably he should eat something.

He doesn’t realize Minseok is still there until he looks up and sees him checking his watch.

“What are you waiting for?” If Minseok had some kind of appointment, sorry to say, it’s probably long since passed.

His coworker frowns. “So when are you going to kiss me?”

Jongin’s mouth drops open. 

“What? When am I going to—excuse me?”

Minseok continues to look unimpressed, and Jongin can’t follow why. “We were close, before you knocked over the damn machine. Now’s your chance.”

Now is Jongin’s chance to walk the hell out of here and never look back. He can draft a resignation letter and cite Kim Minseok’s delusions as reasoning.

Instead, he stays put. “I don’t want to kiss you.”

“Are you sure?” Minseok steps closer. “Not even if it means putting your upstart junior in his place?” The space between them shrinks, until Minseok’s fingers are playing with the knot of Jongin’s tie. “After everything I did to ruin your star reputation?” His breath feathers Jongin’s chin, and his eyes are on his lips.

Something snaps in Jongin.

“You _knew_.” His tone goes sharp, and now it’s him stepping into Minseok’s face.

“Yeah, of course I did,” Minseok says, with all the arrogance of someone who’s gotten away with tarnishing Jongin’s carefully constructed work life. Or maybe he’s just pissed off and it’d have come across like that no matter what.

Either way, this time Minseok’s back is against a sturdy wall, and he has just enough time to smirk and say, “Better choice—“ before Jongin covers his smart mouth with his.

Their lips meet hard and heated, Jongin prying Minseok’s apart by nipping at him roughly. He twists their tongues together the moment the other gasps, and somehow he ends up with his hands in Minseok’s hair and warm palms against his lower back, pulling at his shirt.

They’re a mess of desires colliding and happening at once. A few buttons come undone before they’re abandoned to palm at Minseok’s crotch, the resulting groan spurring desire to hear more in Jongin. He ducks his head to suck at the other’s neck, pulling at his collar and blindly trying to pull off his tie.

Minseok doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands, and if he does he simply can’t decide with how they roam from his back, shirt half untucked, to his front and up his chest. They end up behind Jongin, arms wrapped around his neck and in this position it’s easy for Jongin to slide his hands along Minseok’s thighs and hike them up, pressing their bodies together in a way that makes them both moan.

“Choose,” Jongin rasps. “My desk or yours.”

For once, Minseok is the one lost for words. “Huh?” he huffs, eyes fluttering open.

Jongin kisses him again, taking his time sweeping his tongue along his teeth.

“For where I’m going to fuck you.”

It’s a sloppy process going from there to Minseok bent over his own desk (“Mine. Make me think of you.”) but no one’s here to witness and all Jongin cares about is seeing Minseok’s legs bare and his shirt hanging open loosely on his shoulders. He pushes it up with a hand along Minseok’s spine, and leaves a trail of love bites along his skin as he’s buried two fingers deep already inside him.

It’s addicting the way Minseok shakes with every crook of his fingers, his voice muffled in his forearm. Jongin pulls his collar down next to mouth at the back of Minseok’s neck, and he feels every little sound Minseok makes against his lips.

“Why the hell are you so prepared?” he murmurs, the slick sound of his fingers fucking into Minseok filling the empty air of the office.

“Been wanting to fuck you since day one,” Minseok pants. “Just took awhile to get here.”

That gives Jongin pause. “You have a terrible way of showing it,” he settles on. 

That makes Minseok laugh, for some reason. “No, I think it was perfect for you.” He shifts his hips back into Jongin’s fingers, and he groans in such satisfaction that Jongin works his wrist harder. “Tell me—would you be this heated if I hadn’t gotten under your skin for months?”

Jongin knows immediately the answer is no, because Minseok has been the single challenge he hasn’t managed to overcome in a very long time. The temptation of having the same man under him and panting is too great to resist, and the privilege to indulge in it too high to ignore.

“I could have just hated you,” he points out anyways. He could have.

Minseok wets his lips. “Not before you put me in my place. Your pride wouldn’t let it go—I think that’s hot though.”

Jongin can’t even begin to parse what goes on in Minseok’s head, but it’s not as important as the next thing he says.

“God, Jongin, fuck me already before I come like this.”

He doesn’t need to repeat himself. Wiping his fingers on his own thigh, Jongin struggles to open the condom while Minseok laughs at him uselessly, wiggling his hips. Jongin smacks his ass in retaliation, and Minseok gasps. “Oh you’re perfect,” he breathes.

They really have a lot more talking to do later. But for now, after slicking his cock with more lube, Jongin’s heart races in his chest imagining how hot Minseok will be around him. 

“Ready?”

“Do your worst.”

It’s sorely tempting to make him eat his own cheeky words, but first and foremost Jongin doesn’t like hurting his partners. He doesn’t know what Minseok likes, how rough he can take it, so Jongin pushes in slowly and revels in the tight wetness that envelopes him. 

“Fucking hell…” Jongin closes his eyes as he groans, low in his throat. “That’s right, take it all in.”

“Shit—“ Minseok tenses and then relaxes, his thighs trembling minutely as Jongin buries himself to hilt.

They lay like that for a moment, catching their breaths and letting Minseok adjust. Jongin leans over to whisper sensual nothings to Minseok’s ear, and Minseok tightens around him and then says words about Jongin in return. By the time the shallow slide of Jongin’s hips becomes comfortable enough, they’ve both worked up enough tension to groan when he pulls nearly all the way out and sharply thrusts in.

After a few more experimental strokes, Jongin gets a sense of what works for Minseok and it really only gets better from there.

“Fuck, fuck—“ Minseok’s hips thud against his desk in a way that’s definitely going to bruise, but with how the man bows his back and gasps into the air he definitely doesn’t mind. At least not in the moment. Jongin watches his cock disappear into Minseok over and over, and arousal thrums harder through his body.

His fingers dig into Minseok’s skin, and his jaw tightens as he angles his thrusts until Minseok screams.

“Oh my _god_ —keep doing that. You’re so good, Jongin, fucking amazing.” The reverence in Minseok’s voice does things to Jongin’s head, and he can only go harder as his muscles tighten. “Better than I thought, my god—oh, _fuck_ …”

Every word that spills from Minseok’s lips raises the heat simmering under his skin, and Jongin can hear the desk rattle with how roughly he slams himself into Minseok. 

It’s a bit of a shame that they’re not facing each other. Jongin feels and hears the moment Minseok comes, but he misses the other’s expression and when he takes his own pleasure soon after, covering Minseok with his body and sinking his teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder, it’s not particularly intimate as it is feral.

But Minseok faces him afterwards and looks at him like maybe it means something as he strokes Jongin’s cheek.

“Knew you had a praise kink.”

No matter how affectionate it is, Jongin doesn’t regret nipping his fingers. For the first time, Kim Minseok looks cute as he pouts about needing a band aid. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope xiukai nation and other ST readers can enjoy this!!! thank you for reading!!!


End file.
